


A Matter of Fete

by Somniare



Category: Midsomer Murders
Genre: Gen, Village life, fetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jones, sorry to disturb you at home,” Tom Barnaby said cheerily.  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Fete

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



> Written during Mini Wrimo to a prompt from Small_Hobbit.  
> Thanks to barcardivodka for a quick beta. It has been tinkered with.  
> I own nothing except the mistakes.

* * *

 

Ben Jones grinned at the caller ID; he’d been warned to expect this call.  Excusing himself from his guests, he moved into the kitchen and away from curious eyes.  He answered the call on the fourth ring.  
  
“Good evening, sir.”  
  
“Jones, sorry to disturb you at home,” Tom Barnaby said cheerily.  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”  
  
“Not at all, sir.  Just having a quiet night in.”  Which he had been until his unexpected visitors had arrived, eager to be heard.  “Has something happened?”   
  
“Oh, no, no.  Nothing like that.  I, er… I was hoping you could do me a small favour…well, a largish favour, actually.”  Barnaby’s tone was instantly revealing.  After working together for over five years, Jones had learnt a great deal about the man and he could picture his boss clearly, sat in his armchair, a measure of scotch resting on his knee.  The smile that was brightening Barnaby’s words wouldn’t quite be reaching his eyes as he focused on the task at hand.   
  
“Of course.  If I can,” Jones added.  
  
“Excellent.  Good man.  The Midsomer Eas Water Sprite Festival is on the weekend after next.  I’ve been…asked...to judge the under-fives fancy dress; however, I know how good you are with younger children and I was hoping you might–”  
  
Jones interrupted with a sigh.  “I'd love to help you out, sir, but I've already agreed to judge the ‘Glamorous Grans’ and–”  
  
“Glamorous Grans?”  
  
“Yes, sir.  First prize includes a kiss from the judge and dinner in Causton, though if you wanted to swap–”  
  
“No, that's fine Jones,” Barnaby said hurriedly.  Jones bit his bottom lip to stop his grin.  If he laughed now…  “I wouldn’t want you to disappoint the grans, Jones.”  
  
“You shouldn’t sell yourself short, sir.  I think they’d be delighted–”  
  
Barnaby either ignored Jones or chose not to comment.  Instead, he said, “If I’d known you’d already been roped in too I wouldn’t have called.  I might give Stephens a call; she's good with small children.  Goodnight, Jones.”  
  
“Good–”  The call cut off abruptly and Jones burst out laughing.  He turned back to his guests.  “You were absolutely right.  He’s going to ring Gail.  How did you…?”  
  
“That, Ben, is the result of many years of wedded bliss.”  Joyce Barnaby smiled serenely and tipped her head to one side.  
  
Jones leaned against the door frame.  “Do you think I should have let him know Gail's down to do the Best Dressed Cat?”  
  
“What, and spoil Gail's fun?” Cully, sitting on the couch beside her mother, winked at him.  
  
Jones retrieved the white wine from the fridge and refilled their glasses.  Sitting down on the footstool, the only spare seat in his tiny living area, he asked, “You're certain he won't find out the grans and the cats were never on the program?”  
  
Cully gave a mildly exasperated huff.  “With mum as chair of the committee and me as secretary and treasurer? Highly unlikely.  And if by some chance he does, we'll just tell him they were cancelled on the day due to lack of interest.  He knows better than to argue.”  
  
“He's not weaselling his way out of the fete this year,” Joyce said firmly.  
  
Not for the first time, Jones was in awe at the force that was the Barnaby women.

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt: Tom Barnaby is trying to persuade Jones to take his place judging the under fives fancy dress costume at the village fair/church fete.
> 
> Ea ( _plural_ eas) From Middle English, from Old English _ēa_ (“running water, water, stream, river”)


End file.
